Monday, October 21, 2013

MY LYCAN LOVER

An ancient law permits a Midnight Lycan to bond with spellcaster. A woman who he will protect until the end of time.

Sherry Delacroix is a third level spellcaster. Quinn Rothschild, a rare wolf shifter; a purebred Midnight Lycan. They work together at the Downtown Den and unknowingly are fated as mates in a mystical union. To unleash the power of this liaison requires a precarious event, unlocking their instinct to bond.

A rip in the energy shield within the Denver ley line have Dark Fae crossing realms, hungry to harness enough power to bring down the worldwide shield. It's up to Sherry to repair the break before the Fae find her. And it's up to Quinn to keep her safe.

When Sonya, a friend and manager at the Den is kidnapped, Sherry comes out of hiding to face the enemy. Only the person lurking in the shadows isn't who she expected to find as the face of evil.

Never mind about keeping enemies near when the person Sherry least suspects wants her dead.

Sherry twisted away, running her finger over the edge of her lips. “And then what? I can assure you I’m not a foregone conclusion. Your flyboy tactics don’t work on me, just so you know.”

His lupine senses held him by the scruff of the neck. He keenly zeroed in on her body temperature, her breathing, her heart rate. He inhaled her essence, an ultra-feminine scent. Human. It did not matter. His Lycan arousal lapped at the molecules. This had taken on the rules of a feral hunt, and she was his prey.

“There are worse things than enjoying the company of a single man,” he said.

“Name one.”

“What? Afraid that Cupid might play havoc with your heart?”

“Sorry, there is no fear that will happen over dinner, Romeo.”

“First timers. It has been known to happen.”

“Aren’t you immune to the condition yourself? If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be bed hopping each night. Really Quinn, if you want to invite me somewhere be serious. Don’t keep playing me because I’m something unattainable.”

“Just tell me, love. Are you tempted? Afraid you might like the idea of being in my bed.”

For a millisecond, the veil from her eyes dropped. Pain laced her gaze and then she smiled, drawing herself up. “One of an endless stream. That’s a luxury I can’t afford, counselor. Losing oneself isn’t always the road to finding oneself. I don’t think a night of hitting the bottle and meaningless sex is my ticket to salvation.”

“Ouch.” He straightened. “It’s not all meaningless sex.”

She backed away and arched a brow. “No?”

“There’s conversation, too.” He smiled broadly, refusing to allow this woman to distract him, even if she wasn’t succumbing to his charm. She meant something to him. Exactly what, he couldn’t tell. Not yet. Fortunate for him, once he decided upon a chase, rarely did he give up easily.

And Sherry was not someone he was about to step away from… with lips like heaven. Never ever, his wolf sense whispered again and again. So captivating, he inhaled her scent and his gaze lowered to her arched neck, ready for him. And lower still to the neckline of her blouse, the tight material stretching and binding her breasts. All it would take would be a button to pop and her curves would be free. God, her tits would be glorious in his hands. Large and sensitive. The things he could do to make her moan.

His imagination was fueled, and he played mind hockey with several torturous images of her naked under him. The whispers he imagined coming from Sherry’s plump lips bordered on prayer material. Jesus, what he’d give to have her scream his name as he thrust into her repeatedly.

The wolf in him stilled as though prey were close-by. Just to have her accept a dinner invitation would be worth the ringside tickets he had for the upcoming Vegas heavyweight championship.

“You a betting woman?” he asked off-handedly.

“Oh, this ought to be wickedly rich? Hit me, Mr. Rothschild.”

“What if I withhold engaging in meaningless sex for a week? Would you agree to a date then?”

“You. Mr. Quinnlan Rothschild, IV will abstain from all sex for seven days?”

“Please. You act like the idea is farfetched. I’m not a deviant.”

“Oh, course not.” She rolled her eyes and bit her tongue in the most delicious fashion he’d ever seen. “Only it’s hard to swallow… from you’re past dalliances. Given your history, I have doubts even on the Queen’s command you would succeed.”

“But would you agree? Her Highness aside.”

Her eyes twinkled and a twin set of dimples on either side of her cheeks played upon his focus. “To see you just attempt this feat, sure. I’ll agree. But you won’t make it past Friday night.”

“Shake, right now. Starting today. Seven days and then we’ll go on a date. Soup to nuts.” He held out his hand.

Sherry stared down at his outstretched palm and shook her head. “Do the bookies know what is about to hit LoDo?” Her firm, cool grip was heaven in his hand.

In his eagerness, he had to take care not to squeeze hard for fear he could easily hurt the slight bones in her hand. Together, they shook and silently contemplated each other. “I would have gone through much more to get you to say yes.”

“I might have required less. But now, we’ll never know. Will we?” she asked in a low, silky tone.

“Don’t say that.” Without knowing it, she had pushed all his buttons. “I intend on winning this one.”